I knew I was pregnant the moment it happened. The pregnancy test was just a formality for me. Even still — when I saw those two pink lines, I could not believe it. I was going to be a mother. It is true that we had wanted a baby, that we had planned for this baby, but the fact that there was actually a baby growing inside my body was a concept that I could not wrap my brain around. Nothing and no one could have prepared me for the experience that is pregnancy.
I love to write, just like my mother. It allows me to express the emotions that would otherwise be buried within me, layer after layer.
But why create a blog?
Sometimes I think I am certifiably insane for sharing the embarrassing, self-deprecating, and vulnerable thoughts and experiences that I do on this platform. I might as well publish my 4th grade diary at this rate. I surprise myself — post after post — about how much I am willing to share. Because if you truly know me, you know that I am not share-er. That old lass Rose Dawson was right when she said a woman’s heart is an ocean of secrets. 9-year-old me took that shit pretty seriously! 💁🏽♀️
But all that has changed — I have a son now.
I’ve been working for 7 years.
Most of those years were spent at a desk in a cubicle. I spent my time shooting the shit with my coworkers at the coffee pot and browsing the internet. I shuffled papers. Ate snacks out of the company pantry. I did what was expected out of me (and more if I had a great boss) and waited for 5PM. I had some fantastic jobs and I had some not so fantastic jobs. All of them, however, didn’t feel important.
At 23, I got offered the job that would change my entire life.